Tears And Rain
by Seasonal Dreamer
Summary: Today was not a day to be happy. It seemed like an alien idea to him. Getting out of the car. What did that even mean anyway? When did getting out of the car ever come with the definition of having to face the tombstone of someone you love?
1. The Absence Of Sunshine

**Author's Note: **Okay, it's official. I'm a terrible person. I've been so off my game lately, though I'm still whole-heartedly blaming writer's block for my long gaps of absence.

Anyways, I was kind of in the mood for a sad-ish story since I'm going through some not happy times right now, so if you don't like tragedy stories I'm afraid this one isn't for you, though I implore anyone who wants to to give it a shot. It will be shorter than my usual stories since it mostly revolves around one area, but I hope anyone who reads this likes it, though it's not really a happy story.

And even though I'm a terrible person, I'd love it if any of you review! Perhaps reviews will shoot me out of my slump so I can finish BTL once and for all! It's really eating at me that I can't find out how to end it :P

Anyways, I'm babbling a bit here. So in short, I hope you guys like this!

**Rating: **Ehhh...I'd say K. Nothing risky about this story ;)

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><p><strong>Tears And Rain<strong>

**The Absence of Sunshine**

Today was not a day to be happy.

Even the sun, so bent on shining down on even Marco del Rossi's darkest days, seemed to be paying him a little respect. It hid behind the clouds as they omniously rolled in, causing the sky to become a watered-down reflection of how Marco felt. He stared blankly out of the passenger's seat window, eyes skimming over objects of little importance to him, still searching. Always, always searching.

His knuckles were white from the force of which he grasped the dashboard, his hands shaking slightly. His darker-than-usual hair stood up in every which way, making his normally tan complexion appear pale and sickly. People walked by, regarding him slightly with alarm as he continued to intensify his look, scanning each and every face desperately. The muscles around his mouth seemed to forgotten how to smile, making him look much scarier than he was. And making him feel that much more alone.

The car came to a gentle stop, and the air surrounding him became thick with sympathy and remorse. "Do you want me to go with you?" Ellie Nash asked softly, breaking the suffocating silence. Marco shook his head slightly, not trusting himself to speak. "I'll be back later then," she replied just a quietly as before, squeezing Marco's hand and unlocking the doors.

But Marco remained seated. It seemed like an alien idea to him. Getting out of the car. What did that even mean anyway? What did anything mean anyway? It's really just a bunch of made up sounds and symbols, Marco thought randomly, his mind hazy and disfunctional. Just a bunch of symbols that we've convinced ourselves to mean something. But when did getting out of the car ever come with the definition of having to face the tombstone of someone you love?

Marco sighed and pulled himself out of his distracting enigma of a mind. Ellie had driven him all this way to finally say his last goodbyes. He couldn't just sit here and tell her he wasn't ready to say goodbye and to just take him home. Well, technically he could, but it was against his morals.

So, gathering up what little will power and misplaced courage he had left, Marco slumped out of the car without a goodbye, shivering in the wind. His frail body, easily five to ten pounds underweight, shook from the tremors that ransacked his frame and nearly knocked him over. His legs seemed to be resisting his attempts at walking as he wobbled his way down the muddy path, occassionally stumbling over roots of trees or protruding pebbles. His stride was broken, his shoulders slumped as though the world itself sat upon it. But no matter the difficulty, the dark haired boy walked with purpose. He was significantly clumsier, creating the illusion that the proportions of his body weren't correct, but still, he stepped with power. Like he had something to prove.

A slight sprinkle of rain started to fall and splatter on the ground, blurring Marco's vision. Pedestrians ran from the water, shielding their hair and faces until it was just a single dark haired boy stumbling time and time again over his own feet. It was the epitome of helplessness, pulling on the hearts of anyone who could've glanced his way. The wind howled and danced, predicting a storm, but Marco neither headed its warning nor did he have any intention of doing so later on. What was a storm to him anyway? A different storm had already crossed his path and taken the one thing he'd been so scared to lose. His heart ripped open at this very thought, pain making it almost impossible to breathe. Time...time, supposedly, healed all wounds, but holding on to fragments of what had caused the pain wasn't going to make it go away any faster. What he needed to do was get rid of anything that could remind him of what he lost. Purge himself, so to speak.

Normally, Marco was a bit of a packrat. Anything that held good memories or might be needed in some distant future he held on to. He was weird that way. But he just couldn't bring himself to torture his heart with these things any longer. What was the point? They represented a past he could never quite reach again, a past far happier than the future. And no matter how much it hurt, he knew he needed to keep going. He needed to move on...

A flimsy, plastic, grocery store-type bag twirled in Marco's clenched fists, flittering longingly with the wind. But despite its efforts, the boy's frozen fingers refused to release it until he was ready to let go. This bag held Marco's entire reason for being here, his entire _life_ in its grasp, and he wasn't about to allow it its freedom to disappear just like that. He needed preparation. He needed _closure._

He walked for what felt like hours, knowing exactly where he was supposed to head but in no hurry to reach it. Marco's whispered presence seemed to alarm the area, the trees quaking almost in fear. Birds stopped their angry calls and nothing seemed to want to enter Marco's realm of sorrow. Shadows even retreated from him. Only the soft padding of his feet could be heard beneath the roars of the wind.

Eventually, Marco spotted exactly what he had been dreading. The tombstone held faint traces of familiarity, though Marco had only seen this sight but once. But just the simple fact of knowing who was buried under there, who the gravestone before him represented...brought tears to his eyes. He dragged the plastic bag behind him as he inched his way closer to the drugged up and muddy earth, each step feeling like a thousand. Marco had never known himself to be this anxious or depressed before, but he supposed that was what happened when someone close to you dies.

The grave seemed to give him an expecting look when the Italian finally reached it, as if knowing why he was here. Despite the mud and grime on the ground, Marco crossed his legs like a little kid and sat before the stone, simply staring up at it with unaccepting eyes.

Deep down, he figured he knew this was real. But the protective part of his brain, the part that continued to make him feel numb so he wouldn't become suicidal and jump off a cliff, refused to let rationality convince him.

However, Marco was here. And whether he really believed that this was reality or just some sick, twisted nightmare, he supposed he might as well do and say what he'd planned the whole time. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes briefly, the thought that if he couldn't see the sight before him while he spoke, somehow it wouldn't become true working its way into his brain. "Hi Dyl," he whispered, his voice breaking on the man's name. "I've missed you."

The wind suddenly picked up, rustling Marco's hair in the same loving manner that Dylan used to, and the Italian could almost imagine the blonde's hands running through his hair. But the mirage was broken when he opened his eyes a bit too eagerly, expecting to see his fiancé's bright blue eyes smiling down before him. But instead all he saw was the stupid, boringly grey stone coldly looking back at him and the wind immediately stopped blowing, making the Italian feel like he lost him all over again. Marco tried to convince himself that the sudden stillness of the air was only a coincidence.

"It's been a while, hasn't it?" Marco bravely went on, his voice barely audible. "Almost two months." The rain continueed to grow fiercer and pummel the poor boy until he could barely see anything in front of him. Yet still, Marco remained where he was. "We were supposed to get married today," Marco choked out quietly. "Lovely weather for it too," he rolled his eyes, but tears started to fall down his cheeks and mix in with the rain. "And...and I can't help but think...if I'd only stopped you from getting in that car." His bottom lip quivered. "If I'd only delayed you for even a few brief moments, we might still be...still..."

But the flashback was too much for Marco to bare and still keep talking. He could remember it with absolute clarity, something he sorely wished he couldn't do.

_Marco was roaming around the house, conjuring up tedious task to keep himself preoccupied while Dylan got himself dressed for a family dinner. Well, technically they weren't considered a family just _yet_, but really, what was two months? He would soon be a Michalchuk. Or...Dylan would soon be a del Rossi. The specifics on which last name they would take weren't exactly decided on just yet._

_"Are you ready yet, Dyl?" Marco called up frustratingly. "They're bound to be here any minute!"_

_"Yeah, yeah," Marco could hear his fianc__é's amused smile in his response as he thumped down the steps. "And how do I look?" He grinned widely, spreading his arms out to his sides and twirling comically._

_"Dashing," Marco rolled his eyes, turning worried eyes back over to the table set. This was going to be the first dinner with each of their families all in the same room. They'd been to dinner at each other's houses before they moved in together, sure. But never all of them in...one place. The del Rossi family and the Michalchuk family were just as opposite as Marco and Dylan were, only they made it work. _They_ loved each other. Their families? A totally different story._

_Dylan came up behind Marco and started rubbing his shoulders. "It'll be fine Marco. Everything's perfect, stop worrying."_

_Marco sighed, still not convinced, until he suddenly realised something that made him go into a mini heart-attack. "Oh my God!" he cried, wrenching away from Dylan and running crazily into the living room._

_"What?" Dylan asked, running after him and looking at him expectantly. _

_"I completely forgot! Ellie's supposed to be coming over to pick up her mother's birthday present! She'll interupt, then hate me for not telling her sooner!" _

_"Why do you have her mom's gift?" Dylan replied, finding this whole situation highly amusing._

_Marco glared at him, reaching for the phone. "Because she had to hide it somewhere, and her mom knows all the good hiding spots."_

_Dylan smirked, grabbing the phone in Marco's hand gently away from him and speaking in a soothing voice, "Marco? Listen to me. You're _way_ too high-strung right now. I'll just take it to her, okay? Anything to calm you down a bit."_

_"But-"_

_The blonde placed a finger over Marco's lips, stopping him. "No buts. She doesn't live far, I'll just pop in and give it to her and be back before they even get here. No problem."_

Little did Marco know that that would be the last time he'd see him. Marco sighed, curling up into a ball, completely forgetting the reason behind why he was there. He tucked his face into his knees and allowed himself to pretend that it was merely the rain that was wetting his face.


	2. Memories

**Author's Note: **Hi everyone! :D I would first of all like to thank **bubblyanddramatic** and **Peace and Purity** for reviewing my story! You guys are awesome :D Haha but as promised, here's the second chapter to Tears And Rain! I hope you guys like it! It's rather short, so for that I apologize :P

Read and Review!

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><p><strong>Tears And Rain<strong>

**Memories**

_"I'll just pop in and give it to her and be back before they even get here. No problem."_

Big problem. A big, big, very dinosaur-type big problem. Marco could remember just waiting there with their families, awkward beyond belief while the minutes turned into hours as they ticked by. Yet still no sign of Dylan.

Marco shuddered, and not because of the cold rain running down his back. He remembered the panic working its way to his throat, forming a lump and making his chest close painfully. Dylan would never dillydally when Marco was under this much stress. Never.

The Italian refused to look at the grave, praying to God that he was not at the cemetery, but just stupidly in his back yard. That thought kept replaying in his head until he almost convinced himself he was. He even expected Dylan to come storming outside, demanding that he go back into the house before he got sick and threatening to carry him there if he had to.

The sorrowful, dark haired boy almost smiled at this, knowing it would be very true. But sadly, he wasn't in his backyard. Dylan wasn't coming out to get him anymore.

Marco sobbed into his hands, wanting nothing more than to just leave this place and cry in the comfort of his own home. But there was something he needed to do before he went on his way, because he didn't think he'd have the strength to do this again.

He reached for the plastic bag beside him, his fingers fumbling and shaking as he tried to undo the knot he tied out of the handles. So he just ended up tearing it open out of pure frustration, and took out an object. He forced himself to look back at Dylan's grave and he took a deep breath. "R-remember this, Dyl?" A sad looking stuffed bumble bee slumped in Marco's stiff fingers. "Remember how you w-won this for me on our second date? You knew I was terrified of them," the Italian smiled a heartbreaking smile. "So you won it for me anyway at the fair. You thought it was funny, even when I whacked you over the head repeatedly with it. But I loved it. I never admitted to it mind you, but it was always in my room, in plain sight. I wonder if you knew that." He laid the stuffed animal in the grime, watching it almost frown at him at the unsanitary conditions of his new resting place. He mouthed a 'sorry' to it before tearing his eyes away.

"You must've," Marco continued after a few minutes of silence. "I mean, you knew everything about me. You knew more about me than I think I did. You knew just how to make me laugh when I was down or make me blush. You always said the right things at the right times and you always showed me how much you loved me. I...I just wish you were still here, Dyl. I want that more than anything I've ever wanted. I just...I love you so much it hurts," Marco somehow got out, wiping at his eyes though it didn't really stop the flow. Or the rain.

"This p-picture?" Marco stammered out, shakily reaching into the plastic bag and removing a worn and loved photograph. "This one was alw-ways m-my favourite." It was a picture of the two walking. Marco and Dylan were holding hands, smiling softly as each other as rows and rows of grass and flowers surrounded them. The love they shared was evident in their eyes, regarding the other with an almost stunned fascination. They had never truly grasped the concept of how the other could love them so deeply, but they knew they did. It was hard to deny it with a picture like this.

Marco placed it next to the now battered bumble bee with almost delicate and loving care. He fiddled with it, making sure it looked just right before finally letting it go. And it pained him to do so. This was a picture he had cherished above every other one because it spelled out their relationship in black and white. Their relationship was simple, yet beautiful and lovely. Nothing could ever break them apart. Even death.

_"Excuse me for a second," Mr. Michalchuk announced after idle chit chat had taken place in the living room, for his phone was going off. "Hello?" his voice trailed off as he exited into the dining room for a little more privacy, but Marco could hardly care less. This dinner was turning out to be a disaster._

_Where in the devil was Dylan?_

_"Oh my God," Mr. Michalchuk breathed out, yet it was powerful and loud enough for both entire families to go deadly silent. "You're...you're absolutely sure?" There was silence before broken and distorted sobs echoed throughout the house as well as a very audible thump._

_Everybody tensed before shooting out of their chairs and crowded around the fallen Mr. Michalchuk, Marco, Mrs. Michalchuk, and Paige in the lead. _

_"What? What is it?" Mrs. Michalchuk demanded urgently, having eyes for no one but her husband. Marco was too terrified to breathe, every thought turning to Dylan being in every worst scenario his brain could come up with._

_Mr. Michalchuk was sobbing so deeply that it racked through his entire body. "D-Dylan was h-hit. He was d-dead at the s-scene. Our son was killed! Our SON!" _

_And that was when Marco passed out._

Marco covered his ears like it would help block out the sound of his fiancé's dad declaring his death. He had never had flashbacks this bad since it happened. It felt so real, like Dylan had just died all over again. _Shut up, shut up, shut UP! _Marco's mind screamed, squeezing his eyes shut. Why did he have to be continually tortured by this? Wasn't living through it once enough?

Apparently not, seeing as no matter where he went, the shadow of Dylan's death followed him.


	3. Forever And Always

**Author's Note: **Ahh thank you guys for reviewing! Sadly, this is the last chapter (I know, it's short) but I hope you guys like it :) This entire story in general is dedicated to every single person who had reviewed :) You guys are awesome! :)

Read and Review! :)

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><p><strong>Tears And Rain<strong>

**Forever and Always**

As Marco sat there, decidingly numb, he realised he couldn't get through every single object that was stuffed in the bag. It would take a lifetime just to explain them all. And he couldn't take a lifetime of flashbacks.

So he simply looked into the bag, skimming with intense melancholy over every picture, nicknack, folded up jersey, and sloppily written cards before choosing one more thing to reminisce before he just set the entire bag down and walked away.

He took out his favourite letter that Dylan had ever wrote him.

Marco's eyes burned as he read the words carefully written by his one true love.

_My Marco,_

_I...I know this seems rather cheesy, but seeing as it's our anniversary I figured it'd be fitting. You know, all the cheesiness is kind of mandatory with that date._

_But I'm getting off topic. _

_Just...let me say a few things that I've been thinking about since, well, since the first moment I saw you. _

_First of all Marco, I absolutely and whole-heartedly adore you. I know you've heard me tell you that I love you before, but I don't think you truly know how much I do. I love you more than anything in the entire world. Please, please, please believe that._

_I'm not much of a crier, you above everyone else probably know that. Family funerals and even the death of my beloved dog Max never got my eyes to water up. I was extremely sad, of course. But I never cried. _

_However, with you my love, things have always been just a little bit different. One upset look from you, even just thinking that you might be angry with me, sends me doubling over in tears. I'm so scared to lose you, I'm so _in love_ with you that whenever you hurt, I hurt just about the same, if not more._

_I hope, in some small way, this shows you how much I care about you. We've had our fights, what couple hasn't? But I hate it when I hurt you. When you're hurt by someone _else. _I wish I could just hold you for the rest of my life, keeping you safely away from any harm that this world tries to throw at you. It's where you belong._

_You are my everything, Marco. You are my world. You make me happier than I've ever felt, and I can't imagine myself without you. _

_Happy Anniversary, love._

_Dylan_

Marco's eyes welled up the same way they had when he had first read this. He was really crying a lot today wasn't he?

English had easily never been Dylan's best subject. He'd never been able to fully express himself when he wrote, so he utterly despised it. But for him, Dylan had written this letter the best he could. And it was beautiful.

The Italian hugged it to his chest one last time before he gently placed it on the picture on the grave so it wouldn't get entirely ruined by the mud so quickly. This one hurt a lot, he realised. Having to give up that letter. More so than anything else. So he knew right then and there that he had to stop. He had no strength left in him to go through another memory, much less another love letter.

So the dark eyed boy simply placed the torn and soaking bag next to the other uncovered and sentimental objects. It was time now to leave. For good.

He kissed his fingertips and brushed them along Dylan's name lovinging, standing up with the appearance of being finished. The grave seem to give him an incredulous look, like it was surprised that he hadn't picked his stuff up yet. _Aren't you going to keep them? _it seemed to ask. _Don't you want them to remember me by?_ But Marco shook his head no, his knees feeling shaky and unstable. "I can't Dyl," Marco sobbed. "I can't keep reminding myself of you. It hurts too much. I just need closure. I love you more than anything, but I just can't do this anymore I just...I can't...Dylan, I can't!" He took off running, his shoes slapping in the mud as the rain, somehow, seemed to intensify.

Marco could feel the stone staring back at him as he tore away with a mixture of hurt and sadness. It pained the dark haired boy to leave the stuff Dylan gave to him there. Half of him wanted to just turn around and grab them all, not ready to let him go. But will power, for once, won over. He knew without a doubt he could not do this again. There was nothing left in him anymore but grief.

By the time he got to the gate of the cemetery he collapsed, crying heavily into the ground and not noticing that he had scraped up his elbows and knees. What was a little physical pain anyway? It didn't even come close to the emotional pain he felt.

He was so far gone in his little world of despair that he barely stirred when a car came to a stop in front of him and a sprinkle of damp, red hair crouched down to his level and forced him upwards. Soothing sounds echoed in his ears, but they lost all meaning as soon as they left the person's lips. The only calming words he wanted to hear were ones that came from the mouth of a certain curly blonde hair and blue eyed beauty.

The Italian eventually found himself slumped in a soft, leather interior car that was silent in its movements and hushed in its stops. It was rather comforting in a way. Though it still hadn't clicked who exactly was driving him and where, he whole-heartedly appreciated the fact that they were not asking him any questions or trying to start up a conversation of any kind. He would most likely snap if they did.

But only a few short miliseconds of the time were spent being grateful for this, before he plunged back into a depressive spiral. It all wasn't fair, he decided. Why did Dylan have to be killed? Why couldn't it have been him? He would've gladly taken the crash for his love. He just had so much more to offer the world than he did. Why hadn't fate taken him instead?

It baffled Marco to no end how someone as wonderful and perfect as Dylan was killed instead of a short, awkward, gay Italian.

The car, somehow, seemed to find his house admist all the rain. Marco didn't even bother to stutter out a 'thank you' or even check to see who had driven him or if it was even his house. All those details mattered very little to him. He didn't care either way.

Marco stumbled blindly through the front door, up the stairs, and into his bedroom, falling exhaustedly on his sheets. His cheeks were permanently stained with tears and rain as he fell asleep right then and there, not even bothering to pull the covers over his shivering body.

That night, Marco dreamt for the first time in two months.

_He was sitting in the exact same field as the one in his favourite picture, picking at the lillies and beautifully green grass. Marco seemed to be waiting for something. He just didn't know what._

_Until something blocked out the sun that was warming the Italian's back._

_He turned around, curious, to find a certain curly haired blonde smiling lovingly down at him._

_"D-Dylan?" Marco gasped, shocked beyond belief. "Please tell me this isn't a dream."_

_Ghost-Dylan's face fell hard as he sat down beside him, his crystal blue eyes shimmering and watery. "I'm so sorry," he weeped, wrapping his arms around him. "I'm never leaving you again."_

_"But...how is this possible?" Marco whimpered. "You can never come back."_

_"That's not true my love," the blonde breathed against Marco's neck, tears falling from his eyes.. "I'll be with you. Forever."_

_"Promise?" The Italian choked out, leaning his head back into Dylan's chest._

_Dylan kissed his forehead endearingly and slipped the wedding ring on to Marco's finger. The one he would've gotten today if the blue eyed boy hadn't been taken from him. "I promise. Forever and always."_

And Marco drifted off into his only safe haven, his dreams of Dylan, with a small, heartshattering smile on his face.

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><p><strong><em>I guess it's time I run far, far away; find comfort in pain,<em>**  
><strong><em>All pleasure's the same: it just keeps me from trouble.<em>**  
><strong><em>Hides my true shape, like Dorian Gray.<em>**  
><strong><em>I've heard what they say, but I'm not here for trouble.<em>**  
><strong><em>It's more than just words: it's just tears and rain.<br>_**~ 'Tears and Rain,' James Blunt

Please Review! :)


	4. IMPORTANT NOTICE

DON'T PANIC.

If you don't remember favouriting and/or following me, you're not going crazy. You've just done so while I was under a different name.

I'm still the same author; my name has just been changed. Why, you ask? Well, it's a bit of a funny story.

You see, some 'followers' I guess you can call them have added me on Facebook, and I'm not discrediting that; I love talking to you guys. But being the fool that I was and using my real name as my (former) username, some have abused the faith I put in you guys. For the past little while, I've been getting an alarming amount of messages on my Facebook from people who really didn't become my friend to talk about writing 'so to speak.' All the people who have done this have been blocked and unfriended and all that (if you haven't been blocked, then don't worry about this; we're still friends!), but I'm forced to change my name.

Unfortunately, in nearly all of my stories (if not all) I have listed my (former) username, so starting TOMORROW MAY 1ST I am going to be reuploading all of my stories with the changed name listed. Don't worry; nothing else will be changed, and any stories that you favourited/followed should still be accessible to you. But sadly, I'm afraid that all of your lovely reviews might be erased Please don't feel the need to re-review them, but if you are so inclined, they will always be appreciated.

And I must ask to any of you that are my friends on Facebook that I haven't blocked, PLEASE do not talk about any of my stories on my wall. Inbox me instead. I must be strict about this; starting tomorrow, if I find any comments regarding my works, they will be deleted. If you persist, I'm afraid you will also be unfriended and/or blocked.

I'm sorry for the inconvenience to the people who have been nothing but kind to me.

I'll be posting this notice in all of my stories as well as on my profile.


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